


I'll See You Again

by SakuraBreeze



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SakuraBreeze/pseuds/SakuraBreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Jean and Marco told from both of their perspectives. Spoilers up to the end of the Battle of Trost. Unrequited love, death and then, just maybe, a happy ending. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll See You Again

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning: Major character death. Submitted this fic for a competition and the results came out today so I can finally post it. :3

When Marco met Jean in the 104th training squad, it was love at first sight. That arrogant grin, the way he always joked around, but was still smart and athletic; he loved it all. He thought that he would be admiring him from afar, as these things usually went, but by some miracle, they became fast friends.

Marco had been fairly introverted for most of his life and had trouble making many friends (though he did have a few close ones in his hometown). One evening, after a long and grueling day of training, he sat alone on the porch outside his dorm room, letting the cool breeze wash over his face. Watching the people come and go, some heading towards the mess hall while others went to their dorms to shower, he wondered for a moment with whom he should try – and probably fail – to make friends. Even though it was their first day of training, everyone already seemed to have formed cliques.

He had barely finished that thought when a fairly gruff, but friendly, voice sounded from above him. Even though he had only heard it once before, at their little introduction ceremony, he recognized it immediately and felt his heart flutter. “You gonna come eat dinner or what?” The voice asked. Marco glanced over his shoulder to see Jean Kirchstein standing there, hand on his hip, exuding an aura of confidence. He envied him a little as much as he admired him.

“Oh, yeah, I was just getting some fresh air,” Marco replied, standing up and putting a smile that he hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Jean, right? I’m Marco.” He offered his hand to the shorter male. Jean looked surprised for a moment, as if not expecting the formality, but then grinned and shook his hand.

“Jean Kirchstein, it’s a pleasure,” He introduced himself, almost mocking Marco’s former formal tone, the grin still plastered on his face. Marco let out a small, soft laugh, causing Jean’s grin to widen even further.

“Come on, then,” Jean beckoned, stepping off the porch and making his way over to the dining hall. “We gotta get there before all the meat’s gone.”

******

Their meal that evening was a fairly pleasant one, somewhere along the way another trainee, Eren, was recounting stories from when the colossal titan appeared and Marco had joined the group that was questioning him, while Jean sat back at a nearby table.

Marco listened intently as Eren described the titans and the colossal titan itself; no skin, 60 meters tall. It sounded terrifying, yet it was fascinating. He felt an incessant fear begin to gnaw at the back of his mind.  50 meters. Other titans could reach up to 15 meters. How was he supposed to fight that? He knew that he still had years of training left and then after that he was planning to join the Military Police, but what if the colossal titan appeared again? What if the titans broke into the innermost sanctums of the wall?

He was drawn out of his thoughts when Jean piped up, arrogant as ever, criticizing Eren. He wanted to stop them, at this rate they would end up fighting, but before he got the chance, the bell signaling that they were supposed to head to their dorms rang, which appeared to calm the both of them down. Marco smiled softly to himself as Jean apologized. Despite his hot-headedness, he could be sensible sometimes. Then, a girl walked past as everyone began to file past. Beautiful, long, silky, black hair, dark eyes, pale skin. She was definitely at least partly oriental, which was very rare these days. His smile quickly disappeared and he felt his heart drop when he saw the obvious awe on Jean’s face. Of course. Jean was a normal guy; of course he’d find her attractive.

“Your hair is really beautiful,” He heard Jean say, stumbling over his words and felt a little sorry for him when the girl’s only reply was a short “thanks” before she walked away. Maybe he was a little selfish, but he didn’t really feel like hanging around to comfort him right then, so he left the room, walking past Connie and Jean, unnoticed.

******

There was one day during their years of training, one of Marco’s favourite and least favourite days, where he and Jean spent it together. It was one of their very few days off. Jean had managed to piss off just about everyone earlier that morning and wasn’t ready to apologize, so he and Marco just sat in a remote location of the barracks and spent the day bantering and goofing around.

He had managed to make friends with a few of the other trainees, though none he was as close to as Jean, but he didn’t at all mind avoiding them all to spend time with Jean. Again, he felt a little selfish, but he relished in every opportunity he got to have Jean to himself, even if Jean didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t mind. Just as long as he could laugh with him, he was happy.

Of course, he knew that this couldn’t last. There would come a day where Marco wouldn’t be able to take it any longer, when he wouldn’t be able to keep up the façade of just wanting to be friends with Jean. He would do something stupid that day, like kiss Jean out of the blue or drunkenly confess to him. If they didn’t die before that happened. But he would do his best to keep things as they were for as long as possible and enjoy their time together.

He just didn’t expect that day to be the day that he did something stupid.

It was evening. They had already headed back from their little corner to their dorm and were sitting side by side behind the building. Jean had decided that he still didn’t feel like meeting up with everyone else and just wanted to stay there with Marco for a while. The mood was weird. They had both started talking about their pasts, confessing things that they hadn’t ever confessed to other people.

“I’m scared, Marco,” Jean almost whispered after a few moments of silence. “What if I don’t get into the Military Police? What if I don’t score highly enough, I end up in the Stationary Guard and the Colossal Titan appears again?” Marco glanced over at Jean, surprised. For all Jean’s arrogance, he really hadn’t expected this.

Marco put a hand on Jean’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re probably one of the smartest, most athletic guys I know. You’ll be fine,” He assured him and then added, in a hushed tone, “besides; the Colossal Titan wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

Jean let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks, Marco.”

He felt a sudden weight on his shoulder and looked down to see Jean’s head resting on it, his face tilted up slightly and his eyes closed. “It’s kind of weird how easy it is to talk to you,” Jean admitted, causing a smile to spread across Marco’s face. Nevertheless, he still felt a little awkward and so very, very tempted to just lean down a little and… Oh, he was already doing that. Before he knew it, his lips were pressed softly against Jean’s. Doubts flooded his mind. Crap, what did he just do? But soon, all his thoughts were thrown out the window when Jean kissed back, more forcefully, wrapping his arms around Marco’s neck. Soon their mouths were open, their tongues were sliding against each other and- their kiss was broken. Jean was standing up, looking shocked, horrified, almost. Marco felt the blood running from his face. Crap. He had just ruined everything.

“Marco, sorry I- I’m so sorry, I just can’t do this. We’re both guys and I- I’m not into that. I’m sorry,” Jean apologized, his face red, before turning and walking away briskly.

Things were weird between them after that, but only for a few days and then they were back to normal. At first, Marco was a little taken aback, but he soon settled into a routine, happy that he hadn’t lost Jean completely.

******

The Battle of Trost was pretty much what Marco had feared the most as a trainee. He remembered Jean mentioning that he was scared of this very scenario as well. For the major part of the battle, they were separated. Marco was in the reinforcements for the rearguard, while Jean had been assigned to the front lines. He couldn’t help but worry. The front lines were the most dangerous place to be, obviously, and as skilled as Jean was, the titans were still incredibly powerful.

When Marco and his squad were eventually sent out, things went fairly smoothly. His squad was apt and they didn’t encounter too many titans. The problem, however, came in much later on. Everyone had gathered near the wall, facing defeat. Eren had apparently died somewhere along the line – Marco felt a pang of sadness; despite his sometimes disagreeable personality, he still liked Eren – and they were nearly out of gas. The HQ, from where people were supposed to resupply the battlefield, had been overrun with some of the smaller titans and, without someone to motivate them (Eren), there was no way anyone would take action. Even so, _could_ they do anything?

Then, Mikasa was speaking. Motivating everyone. When she was gone, they all stood, dumbfounded, only following when Jean raised his voice. Jean. Anyone would follow him. Including Marco. He zipped easily through the maze of buildings, eyes trained on Jean, only vaguely noticing when Mikasa disappeared.

Eventually, they came to a standstill. It appeared as though titans filled every route that they could possibly take, leaving them no way to make it to HQ. He watched Jean carefully, waiting for him to make a decision. A voice came from below, screaming, and two other former-trainees leapt off the building to save the source of it, only to get caught by the titans themselves. Marco felt bile rise up from his stomach. He was going to be sick. Jean stood there, stock-still, probably shocked by what he just witnessed, as Marco was. He wished that he could comfort the brunette. But no, now wasn’t the time nor the place and he feared rejection again. So he just continued to silently watch Jean from below, on the edge of the roof on which they were standing. He heard earth-shaking roars from afar, snatching his attention away from Jean. What was that? A titan? The sound made him shudder, but whether it was from awe or terror, he did not know.

He drew his gaze back to Jean when he heard a small gasp come from him.

“Now!” Jean announced. “Into HQ while we have the chance!” Then, they all leapt from the building, making their way to the building ahead, dodging titans left and right. It was terrifying, yet he felt exhilarated to be following Jean at that moment. He seemed so confident, so self-assured. Marco was sure that he had just made the right choice.

The rest was a blur. Flying, crashing through a window, preparation, shooting and then calm. He and Jean had another long talk as they refilled their gas. It was pleasant. It was the first time they had talked like this since that time behind the dorms. Even the mood was similar. But, this time Marco didn’t kiss Jean. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t lean in, nor did he brush his lips against the other’s.

Soon, they left the building again and began their journey back. Before he knew it, he was back to the safety of the top of the wall, watching as the chaos below continued. He was safe. Relief washed over him, but he still felt uneasy about something, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.

******

The counterattack was in motion. Things were by no means going smoothly, but with the advantage of Eren, their victory was a sure thing. At one point, Jean’s gear stopped working, which caused panic to rise inside Marco. However, after a risky, impromptu rescue mission, he was safe. Not too long after, the mission was over and the wall was closed. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned to Jean and smiled. Jean returned the smile, but there was a hint of something Marco couldn’t place – regret, maybe? Sadness? – in his eyes. He couldn’t dwell on it for long though, as his attention was drawn away when he was called away.

A few of them, Marco included, had been selected to help the cleanup operation of the remaining titans within Trost. He swallowed, a sudden, almost crippling fear washing over him. Why now, of all times? There were many instances during the day where this same fear could have ( _should_ have, even) taken hold of him, but didn’t. So why now? Forcing his body to move, he walked with his squad to their entry point, his heart pounding in his ears the entire time.

He took a moment to look at his squad as they neared their destination. There were a few members that he didn’t know well, but, after a few moments, his eyes fell on Annie and he felt himself relax a little. She was very skilled. If he somehow got into trouble, he was sure that she would manage to save him if it came to that.

Soon, the fighting recommenced. It was all going well; they were managing to take down titans left and right with minimal damage to themselves or their gear. That was, until he felt something hard – and distinctly _not_ a titan – hit the back of his head. He began to fall, squeezing his eyes shut. The fall seemed to last forever, but he eventually came into contact with the cold, hard ground. He skidded, coming to a stop just in front of a wall. Sitting upright and leaning against it, he looked around, trying to see what had hit him.

Then, footsteps approached. They were slow, as if the source of them didn’t have a care in the world about the titans that were just blocks away. A short figure came into view from the side, moving to stand in front of him. Blonde hair, cold, icy eyes. He was sure that he recognized the person, but his head was pounding too hard and he was too dizzy to think straight. He felt wetness run down the side his face. He was sure that he wasn’t crying and it definitely wasn’t raining. He touched it lightly and looked at his hand. Wait, blood? Right, he had hit the ground pretty hard. He was probably bleeding a lot. He needed help. The person in front of him was wearing a uniform, weren’t they? They would help, right?

“I’m sorry, Marco,” A definitely female voice drawled from in front of him. “But this is a necessary sacrifice.” The figure was now practically on top of him, fiddling with the straps around his waist. He heard clicking noises. She was taking his maneuver gear. Panic rose within him once more. He made a move to shove the figure off of him. He needed to run away. But he was stopped by a sharp pain in his arm. He was pretty sure he yelled just then, but he couldn’t be sure. He looked down to see the severity of the injury and- wait, his arm was gone. It hit him, then. He was going to die. This person wouldn’t help him. He would either bleed out or the titans would find him. Tears rolled down his face, but, strangely enough, a sense of calm took over him in place of the fear or panic that was there not that long ago.

The figure disappeared along with his gear and soon, he heard the thudding footsteps of a titan, like the drums at an execution. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see his executioner. Instead, he remembered Jean. All the regrets, all the bad times, but all the good times as well. He even remembered their kiss. Weirdly enough, he didn’t regret it. Not at all. He was glad that he got to share that with Jean at least once in his life now that it was ending. He felt something grip him and lift him up. The titan’s searingly hot breath blew against him. The pressure of teeth was against his head. Crunching, blinding pain, blackness.

_Jean…_

******

_Jean walked along the dusty road, rubble and body parts scattered about. He didn’t feel as disgusted by the scene as he should have; he just kept on walking, ignoring the people that passed by him. He was looking for something. No, someone. He drifted on, not really in any particular direction, but somehow knowing that if he kept going his legs would eventually lead him to the right place._

_Soon, he came to a halt in front of a towering wall, higher than it should have been. But he wasn’t really concerned with its height. Not when the sight before him made him crumple to the ground. Marco. Marco, oh, God, no. Not him. Of all the people, not him. Tears began to roll down his face. He could barely breathe through his sobs. Then, all of a sudden, someone was standing in front of him. He looked up slowly at the disfigured form of his best friend. Half of his face and torso were missing, leaving his insides just peeking out. Bile rose up into Jean’s throat, but he resisted throwing up._

_“Jean,” Marco hissed. “Jean, you were the one who let me die. I’m dead because of you. It’s your fault.”_

No, Marco, no, this isn’t what I wanted. I wanted to keep living with you, to keep fighting alongside you. I wanted us to stay together for a long, long time. I never wanted you to die, not like this, _Jean tried to say, but no words came out of his mouth._

_“You don’t deserve to lead. You don’t deserve to live,” Marco continued, stepping forward, clamping his hand around Jean’s throat and lifting him up. “It’s your fault.”_

Jean woke up with a start, sweating and panting heavily. It had months since Marco’s death, yet he still could not stop thinking about it. About Marco. He had joined the Scouting Legion for Marco as penance, perhaps, but he couldn’t get over the guilt. He couldn’t protect Marco. He should have gone with him, even if it was against orders. He should have found a way.

He had so, so many regrets from the past few years. Most of all, how much he had let Marco down. Letting him die, but also breaking his heart. That was maybe what he regretted the most, not just for Marco’s sake, but for his own, selfish reasons as well. He had realized far too late, after rejecting his kiss, after Marco dying, that he loved him. He had loved him with all his heart and he still did. Maybe he would never stop loving him. But there was nothing he could do now. Marco was gone, forever, and Jean had to live with his unworthy self.

The days were long and grueling, even the days they had off. Jean longed to see his freckled friend. He only kept going because he felt like, if he gave up, he would be letting him down yet again. And he couldn’t do that. Not even if it meant an end to this hellish world. Some days were bearable. Once or twice, he would meet a pretty girl and they would have a flirty conversation and Jean would go home feeling good about himself. Other times, he just felt generally good. Sometimes he would even have a good dream at night, about Marco or about his friends or just a random, fun one. But those days and nights were always met by nightmares; the same nightmares that were now keeping him up.

He stood up and made his way to the window of his room, opening it slightly and letting the cool breeze blow on his face.

Marco used to do this sometimes, when he wanted to think. Jean could see why; it was so utterly calming.

He felt tears fall softly down his face. “Marco,” He whispered out loud. “I wish you were here.”

******

Jean spent the next few years pouring all of his time and energy into training. It kept his mind off of Marco and Trost for the most part and helped him become stronger at an extremely rapid pace. He soon became part of the elite within the Scouting Legion and fought alongside Mikasa, Eren and others as a member of the new Squad Levi. He partook in numerous missions, some successes, and some miserable failures. Eventually, he could start to feel proud of the work that he was doing. They had even cleared out titans from an extremely wide area outside of Wall Rose so people could start to farm there, under careful supervision and protection. Certain foods started to become less of a rarity and a larger part of the populace could lead more, relaxed, luxurious lives.

But, there was still a nagging sense of guilt at the back of Jean’s mind, which nothing he did could take away. Even so, he felt as if Marco was almost watching over him and protecting Jean, where Jean could not protect him. It gave Jean some, small sense of comfort when the battles got rough and he came close to death.

Jean knew that it was painfully obvious that he still wasn’t over Marco – he probably never would be – and that it was more than a little pathetic. But it was both the source of his grief and his driving force. He couldn’t let go. Not yet.

Then, a mission came. Probably the most important mission of his life. They were about to take Wall Rose and then Shigashina, about to finally complete the task they had sacrificed so much for. But Jean couldn’t feel relieved. Not yet. There was still so much work to be done.

Squad Levi raced through the buildings, killing titans with impressive efficiency and skill, while Eren carried a boulder they had procured from the mountains in order to close off the hole that had been created by the Armored Titan all those years ago. It was a repeat of Trost.

Only, this time, Jean didn’t intend to lose any more friends. He refused to.

He battled harder than he ever had before, taking down titans left and right, maybe even more than Mikasa was killing. It didn’t take long before Eren closed the hole again. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was done. Only it wasn’t. A titan caught the wire of his 3D Maneuver Gear, causing him to fly straight into the ground. His head impacted hard with the rubble below him, while his blade, flying about, cut a gash deep into his side.

When he eventually came to a stop, the titan was gone. He lay on his back, sprawled out uncomfortably on the ground, staring up at the sky. He didn’t know how long he lay there, but by the time a face hovered above his, horror and despair painted on it, he was already feeling cold and his vision was blurry, but from the way the person was yelling, he guessed that it was Eren.

“No, Jean! Don’t give up, asshole!” Was probably what Eren was yelling. It was hard to make out. Then, a gentler voice reached his ears, more clearly than Eren’s.

“Jean,” it called. “Jean, it’s okay. It’s time.” He realized then that he recognized that voice. He had forgotten what it sounded like until now. Gentle, kind. It was Marco.

Another face materialized above Eren’s. Marco’s face. He reached towards it, a small smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered hoarsely.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Marco assured him with a smile. He was always doing that. He was always the one to reassure Jean, even now. He was grateful for it. Jean’s lips pulled into a small smile in return.

“I’m coming… Marco…” The words died on his lips as his hand fell to his side and his eyes drifted shut.

******

Marco walked down the street at a leisurely pace, listening to music through his earphones. He was in no rush to be anywhere; his classes for the day were finished so he had decided to just enjoy the sun while he made his way home.

As he was about to turn a corner, into the road on which his apartment was situated, he bumped into someone a little shorter than him, causing them both to fall over backwards. The other person stood up quickly and offered their hand to Marco.

He looked up, squinting through the sunlight, and accepted the hand. He made a small noise of surprise when he was lifted up with unexpected strength.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry, are you alright?” The man apologized quickly. Marco didn’t respond for a moment, just staring at his face. He looked oddly familiar, though he could have sworn that he had never met him in his life. The man had hair that was dusty brown on top, but slightly darker on the bottom and amber eyes. He couldn’t put his finger on where this feeling of recognition was coming from, but he felt like he _knew_ him.

“Did you hit your head or something?” Marco was drawn out of his thoughts by the concern in the man’s tone.

“Oh, sorry, I’m fine,” he answered, an embarrassed smile appearing on his lips. “I just felt like I know you from somewhere. You look really familiar.”

The man cocked an eyebrow. “So do you, actually. Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so,” Marco laughed, then held out his hand. “I’m Marco, by the way.”

“Jean,” the man greeted, shaking his hand. A blush then appeared on his face as he added, “say, Marco. Do you want to maybe go out sometime?”

Marco blinked, surprised not only by the abrupt question, but by an image that flashed through his mind. This man, Jean, dressed in some sort of strange, military uniform, grinning like an idiot. He felt tears suddenly sting his eyes, threatening to fall.

“No, no, please don’t cry! If you don’t want to then it’s fine, I just-”

“No, that’s not it,” Marco chuckled a little. “I’d love to, Jean.”


End file.
